Goal

And when I finally met my duty

even the poem needed to hide

behind the white page

to vanish between my three fingers

from afar to gaze at the world

and understand its deathlessness

while I stood before my future

a mask on my face and I wondered

why Lucifer mocked me, an adulterer

that I was, numismatic value 

of the flesh, cheap and tarry, made of

straw; my tools for advancement

fed carnivorous beasts

with displayed moustaches

smooth arms heavy and strong

that carried fresh water pitchers

to the hovel wherein I slept lightly

like an evening vesper

whoosh of lapping waves, faint

little black between the virgin’s legs

exquisite mystery that I loved

to the point of no return

and this the duty of my earthly life

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IN DESPAIR

He lost him forever.   And now he seeks

his lips in the lips of every   new lover

in the union with every new lover  

he tries to fool himself

into believing this is the same

young man he gives himself to.

He lost him forever,   as if he never existed.

Because he wanted—he said—to save himself

from the stigmatized,   the unhealthy sensual pleasure;

from the stigmatized,   sensual pleasure of shame.

There was still time—    he said— to save himself.

He lost him forever,   as if he never existed.

In his imagination,   in his delusions

in the lips of other young men   he seeks his lips;

he yearns to feel   that passion again.

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17

Bad Imitation

Broken chords

not from winding but

from unwinding.

The guitar on the bed

the glass under the bed

with the shoes.

One is locked inside the wall

the other in the chest

the third one in the coffin.

I can’t take it anymore, he said.

He brought his finger to his eyes

to mimic Oedipus’ movement

not the last one

the one before last.

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